Weird Wednesday
by BunnyGoBoom
Summary: Waking up in a body that isn't yours is a terrible way to start the day.


**This is just an idea I've been playing with for a while. I will eventually continue this, but at the moment I'm not sure how. Enjoy!**

* * *

Oliver had been through some crazy things: shipwrecking on an island, getting attacked by an Asian guy in a green hood and, well, everything that happened after that. Life had been throwing him nothing but curveballs since then, and he'd gotten used to it.

But today it was throwing him one hell of a curveball.

Oliver gaped at his reflection in the mirror. Or rather, Felicity's reflection. He'd been staring at it for two full minutes and it still wasn't getting any easier to process; even with her glasses, which she was evidently blind without. This couldn't be happening. This _Freaky Friday_ crap just didn't happen outside of movies. He slapped himself (her?), but he didn't wake up. Was he hallucinating? Didn't feel like it; his mind felt too sharp.

He took a deep breath. _This is definitely happening. There's no use panicking about it. I'll call Diggle and Felicity and we'll figure this out together… Wait. If I'm in Felicity's body…_

_Oh, shit._

Felicity groaned as she wandered into consciousness. _Wow, my bed feels AMAZING this morning! _She rubbed her face into the unusually soft pillow, hating that she had to get up for work. Her fingers bounced around on the nightstand in search of her glasses, but she couldn't feel them anywhere. _Aw, man! Did they fall on the floor again? _Pouting, she turned her head right and looked to the floor, squinting. Her vision was surprisingly clear. _I can see? I CAN SEE! It's a miracle! Hey, wait, when did I get hardwood floors? _Her gaze wandered around the room. _Fancy! Where the hell am I? Hmm… and why does my head feel funny? I don't remember putting my hair up last… Son of a bitch! Who cut my hair?! And why does my arm look so manly—_

_HOLY SHITBALLS._

Felicity sprang spastically from the bed, hitting the floor with a loud _ker-THUNK_. This wasn't happening. This _couldn't_ be happening. She was dreaming. She was _not_ in some dude's body. Patting at her (his?) chest, she felt soft ridges of scar tissue scattered over mounds of amazing muscle. This guy was ripped in more than one definition of the word.

Hmm… Was there anyone Felicity knew who was like that?

_NO!_

Clinging to her denial, she sped to the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror. Her new manly hands gripped the sides of the sink as she gawked at her reflection.

It was Oliver Queen. She was in the body of Oliver Queen.

She wanted to scream loud enough to break the mirror, but all that came out was a terrified little squeak, followed by a sort of panicked humming sound struggling to become a whine. Her (his?) hands involuntarily let go of the sink and started fanning Oliver's face. Felicity's mind was going a lightyear a minute, trying to figure out what was going on. This kind of thing only happened in movies and her favorite sci-fi shows; so why was it happening to her? What caused this? What did she do? Who did Oliver piss off?

Her mind sufficiently boggled, Felicity clumsily took a seat on the floor and hugged her knees to her chest. Or his knees to his chest. Whatever. She needed to calm down. Having a heart attack wasn't going to help anyth—

_IS OLIVER IN MY BODY?! BECAUSE IF I'M HERE, THEN HE MUST BE… OH MOTHER OF BALLS THIS DAY REALLY SUCKS SO FAR._

"Oliver?" It was Diggle. "Hey, I heard something fall. You okay?" The bodyguard entered the room. Felicity stayed quiet, still too paralyzed to speak. "Are you in here? If you don't answer, then I'm taking my gun out."

Still no response. Diggle walked slowly toward the bathroom, taking his gun out as he got closer. He rounded the corner and…

What was Oliver doing on the bathroom floor with tears in his eyes? Why was he in a panicked little ball? Diggle hadn't known Oliver was capable of being this unmanly. It was kind of hard to look at, actually.

"Umm… Oliver?" Diggle said cautiously. "What…?" Then he really looked him in the eye.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded harshly, raising his gun.

Not-Oliver flinched and whimpered, throwing up his hands.

"Dig, it's me, it's Felicity," she whined.

Diggle looked at Not-Oliver like he just grew antlers. "What?"

"I don't know what happened!" she answered, lip quivering. "I just woke up and I… I don't know what's going on!"

The bodyguard lowered his weapon, stunned. He watched closely as Not-Oliver shook with fear, looking for any sign of deception. But the imposter seemed genuinely afraid and confused. And girlish.

"I told you a story that explained why I'm helping Oliver. What was it?" Diggle asked, looking for proof of Not-Oliver's claim.

He sniffled. "Umm… You were assigned to protect this awful guy who sold opium and children, and you ended up shooting a young man to protect him. It made you wonder if you were still good. You help Oliver because you believe he's doing the right thing, even though he's going outside the law."

Diggle's eyes widened, and he nearly dropped his gun. "Felicity?"

She nodded, biting her lip. "I'm really freaking out."

"Me, too." Diggle replied, putting a hand to his forehead.

"Does this mean Oliver's in my body?" Felicity squeaked.

Diggle gaped at her, wondering if it were true. Big bad Oliver in cute little Felicity's body, all tiny and blonde and weak and bespectacled…

"Diggle? Can you stop laughing like that, please? You're scaring me. I'm scared enough as it is. I'm all big and bulky now and I've got new parts to adjust to and—No, don't laugh louder! Your manic cackle isn't helping. Diggle. Diggle!"

"Sorry," he said, trying to get himself under control.

"Should we call him now? I mean me. No, wait, I mean him. On my phone. I mean on his phone, but we call my phone. Because we need to call him using my number—Dammit! I just realized I have to pee."

The laughter was back in full force.

"Shut it, Diggle." Felicity in Oliver's body stood up. "This is going to be really, really awkward and mildly traumatizing and being laughed at is not going to help anything. I don't even know how… Is there some kind of trick to it, or is it straight forward? Oh, now you're laughing harder. That's great. Really helpful. Just… just get out. I'll figure it out by myself."

Oliver found himself wondering for the hundredth time why Felicity didn't have a boyfriend. Her body was like, really hot. Not that he was ogling; he was just trying to get dressed, which was surprisingly difficult to do without looking. And bras were _hard_. He was pretty sure he'd put it on wrong, so he took it off and tried again but it still felt uncomfortable. And how could he put it on without fondling her in the process? It was pretty much impossible. Resignedly, he stood there in front of the mirror and just took it all in. It's not as if he hadn't seen boobs before… or anything south of those. Nothing new. Well, there was that birthmark—which had no effect on him whatsoever. Nope, none. It wasn't cute or anything. Nothing about the experience caused him to feel non-platonic feelings towards Felicity at all.

Her phone buzzed, and he reached it before the second ring.

"Diggle?"

"Oliver?"

"How did you… oh, you've found Felicity already."

"Yeah. She's… a… She's fine. How are you holding up?"

"I have boobs now, Diggle. And I'm short."

"Felicity's not happy, either. Peeing is probably a traumatizing experience for her."

"Eh," he said with a shrug. "Wasn't so bad for me. I almost forgot to sit down, though."

"Do you have any idea why this is happening?"  
"Nope."

"This is probably _your fault!_" It seemed that Felicity had wrestled the phone away from Diggle. "I don't know who you pissed off, but you better apologize before next week!"

"Why before then?"

The other end was silent for a moment. Then Oliver could hear Diggle burst out laughing.

"I…" Felicity sounded like she was blushing. "We have until next week. Let's leave it at that."

"It's ok, Felicity," said Diggle. "Oliver bleeds all the time."

"Not like this!" she hissed.

Oliver made a face. "I don't want to be around for what she's talking about."

Diggle took the phone back. "For now, I think you two should lie low. I'll bring her to Verdant and you can meet us there."

"But I have to take care of Paperweight!" she interjected.

"Bring her here, Dig. We'll go to Verdant after. I still need to shower, anyway."

The phone was wrestled away again. "But if we go to Verdant then Roy might NO YOU ARE NOT SHOWERING."

Oliver couldn't help smirking. "Your body is mine for the time being. I might as well get comfortable in it."

"You will do no such thing. Also, that sounded incredibly dirty."

"Felicity, be an adult about this."

"I am being an adult. More specifically, I'm being a twenty-nine-year-old male."

"We will figure this out, okay? Just hurry up and get over here."


End file.
